Category Archive

This Spring semester, I’m back at Cy Fair College campus grounds and taking film photography in black and white. On the first day of school, I discovered that this wasn’t your “I’m aspiring to be a pet or wedding photographer” class. My narcoleptic professor’s first proclamation was: “if you don’t like the way I talk, get the fuck out of here.” How interesting that I finally feel like a college student after graduating. Although we have four criticals and one final projects due that revolves around ART, I am very excited to finally learn the proper delivery of a photo from shot to film processing. The first time I fed the Kodak Tmax 100 in my Nikon n6006, I recalled winding up my father’s camera as a kid. I love the way the shutter sounds! Did I mention, this shall be an expensive hobby? Thank you, scholarships and beautiful GPA o^~^o

While still learning the technical terms and how to use a small format camera, I discovered how difficult it is to take a picture without the auto focus or instant gratification of a replay screen. Many a times, I was taken a back on how much my failing eyesight really need to be corrected as soon as possible. Although there is a rush from the mystery of how my first practice roll shall develop to, I am afraid that they’ll come out blurry or simply lacking sense. Even if we aren’t asked to adhere to the assignments, we are not allowed to stay within the stereotypes of picture-taking. Part of me thinks I take pretty nice shots of my pets, food porn & bento, attempts of fashion, and toy collection. However, people have misunderstood that I took pictures to attract attention. Honestly, I have short-term memory loss, which required a daily journal to chronicle moments. Without flickr, I would’ve failed to recall even the bad memories. This time, instead of taking pictures forME and keeping memories of what I love, I must evoke feelings from the viewer and accept critiques from complete strangers or non-flickr community. Another challenge for me is not being able to upload and relying on keeping a physical album once again. I don’t even recall when the last time I had anything printed… hMmmm…

Now that I somewhat have more free time, on top of taking Chinese and US History, I shall attempt to start sewing via machine and finish the knitted scarves that was given to me from my China summer abroad at Zhejiang Unversity. Yes, I used to hand sew everything!!! However, I drove all the way to Sugar Land and begged mama to lend me her electric. Also, I borrowed “Knitting for Dummies” last Friday from the libary and haven’t had any chance to look at it yet because I am fighting the flu =( This month, I plan to hem all my slacks/trousers and modify some skirts/shirts since I’ve lost weight.

If anyone knows a grandma that I can borrow to teach me the basics, please don’t hesitate to point me in the right direction.

Is it just me or did the weekend just slapped my face to Monday? Insert grumpy face here. There’s nothing worse than waking up @0930, when you’re not scheduled to work, and it’s his day off as well. I would’ve burrito blanket’d meself had I not forgotten to pay the rent on the 1st. For the love of Jedediah Springfield, just maybe, that awful apt office manager will realise this is the first tarnish on my 5yr record and not slap me with a late fee. As I climb into my own bed, too tired to fb while wishing I had a lake or forest to look out to, I know it’s beyond time to relocate, but that would mean I have to move the mountains of paper through the shredder or a file cabinet… clean the clutter in the closet… carry stuffs from the fifth floor… Who wants all that? Main reason why I don’t own a television. I refuse to carry anything I cannot eat or wear. Sigh… I’ve ran out of undies and socks. During finals, it was easier to purchase than hand wash the lingerie. Now, the initials PRO after my name indicate procrastinator numero uno. I haven’t turned on the stove since summer. Senseless rant ends here. G’nite from the lazy.

This Thanksgiving holiday, I am very grateful to all the P90X and flickr friends God has blessed me with. Although I haven’t met them all in person yet, I must say that they’ve shared my journey these past five years. Because they follow my pictures just as much as I got to know their cats and kiddos, workout regimens, and obsessions with HK & bento boxes, my Christmas mail box has not been empty. As a kid, my mama taught me to hand-write personalized notes to special people in my life… Let’s just say the numbers have decreased as I grew older.

There are those I’ve been lucky enough to experience special connections and have remained in constant communication with. Thank you, facebook! I love you’all just as much as you love me & my cubbs. You know who you’all are. Please expect the Christmas cards my double-trouble & I worked hard on taking… sigh O.0

While I am waiting for my hair to dry after my post-workout shower from 24hr Fitness and looking at my uploaded pics from Vegas, I ponder why it is such a big deal to have bigger boobs.

Men staring unwaveringly at my chest used to bother and angered me more if they looked away when caught. At age 13, my C cups confused my emotions on whether I should feel guilty for liking my massive growth spurt or be disgusted at some of the special attention from the “uncles” (creepy old men at clubs).

When we were in China, the pink tank top that never had any complaints were causing commotion from classmates who were embarrassed to be standing next to my almost DD pushed up knockers. Granted we were at the Buddhist temple, but it was hot and raining. Otherwise, I would not have any problems wearing just a bikini top. We already wore a condom, I mean a poncho, while watching Xi Hu Water Impressions in the rain for two hours. There’s only two instances I don’t mind getting wet: in the shower and in the pool =P

Did I mention an old man came up to me in Beijing and nonchalantly-blatantly put his hand on my left breast? Yea… no concept of personal space.

Also, when my fellow breast-blessed best friend Bernadette and I were standing in line for the bathroom at Houston’s new club Ei8ht, an angry, flat-chested white girl came up and pointed an inch away from her boobies and shouted, “THOSE ARE NOT REAL, YOU’RE ASiAN!!!”It is not the first time we have been accused of surgical enhancement, not that there’s anything wrong with plastics. However, I should never defend what God gave me nor do I have to argue that they are naturel.

Just the other night, even the lover shared his “observation” that I must like wearing low cleavage clothes. Perplexed and a bit offended, I retorted what I thought was overtly obvious since he just finished telling me how much he loved my big tits while I was on top, “did you ever think that they have been a bane to my fashionista freedom?” Many a cute outfits I sadly sacrificed in order to conform and not offend anyone. “Cannot pass the biggie boobs” was clearly my slogan behind most fitting rooms since I can remember. In Asia, I am considered odd and way too big; wo shi hen da. While shopping inside China’s trendy malls, Josh and MC can attest that there was no point trying on anything for I was beyond XXL. Imagine how frustrating it is to buy only shoes and belts?

It is not my fault they do not fit or it looks like I am spilling over. Don’t you all think I haven’t tried to squeeze them into smaller sizes? I end up short of breath or popping buttons and splitting seams. For many years, I have contemplated getting breast reduction. Having huge boobies constantly afflict me with back pain, it should not give me head and heart aches.

Kim Basinger once said, “I don’t have time to be classified as difficult, and I don’t have time to care.”

So, when I do find a dress that fits me well in ALL the right places or a costume I can clearly day dream about all day because it makes me feel good, I am go’n wear it, dagnabbit!!! It is never ever for you. Ergo, if I am aware you have eyes to see and am not offended when you are hypnotized, then spare me the psychobabble.

I am not into that mainstream stifling, stereotypical bondage mentality that good girls should only wear sweaters. Heck, I love layers in the fall. However, in Houston’s hot and humid summer, I prefer tube tops and sarongs! Need I remind people that this is the land of the free or that if you cannot think for yourself, then you’re doomed anyway? You do not have to remind me that when I look like an exotic dancer (stripper is such a derogatory term, unless sexy is in front of it), the visual porn will attract the wrong men and advertise the wrong message. First of all, I am not one of those girls that flaunt and use it just because they have it. I have yet to accept all the drinks brought to me by bartenders. Those that know me can attest I can buy my own, thank you. I have found that men are perplexed by me once our conversation starts. “You are not as I imagined you to be.”To which I reply, “Oh, yeah? That’s because you were looking down there instead of up here.”

Just goes to show you that it is strongly better to be disliked for who you really are than to be loved by who you are not.

Recently, I witnessed something so troubling I believed only existed in afternoon soap dramas, I did not know how to react to the sorry situation. Never have I interrupted a lovers’ quarrel; however, in this surround sound situation, where their toddler could be traumatized by this memory, it took all dignity for me not to say more than what I did to both of them.

First, if this person I deeply love is reading my post, I am not going to apologize rather I want you to read because I am not going to repeat myself.

Repeatedly, you complained you’ve had enough of “this” for the past four years. How much longer are you going to allow “this?” My response to you that day will not change. Let it go and live a better life. They say fear and love give off the same smell and illicit similar senses because the same center in your brain is stimulated. That is not love you feel for him. I will bet all my money that it’s fear confusing your emotions, my dear. Well, I am afraid that when I saw you on the floor holding onto him and would not let go of what masquerades for a man nowadays, I could not help but be angry at you. You have fallen in your own grave. Now, it is time for you to find that strength I know is inside and dig yourself up. Pray harder, sister.

Especially when necessary, many a girl fail to take a break or a breather because of the possibility that he is “the one” or her “soul mate.” Please know now, if you didn’t already, that you cannot change anyone. This dream dangerously feeds a myopic view that he is the center of her life.

A real woman is confident and not governed by fear of losing any man, because she knows the real price to pay is when she loses herself.

“Almost immediately, women give themselves up in small ways. The cumulative effect of these subtle concessions; however, is what amounts to feeling depleted.

Here’s the cycle:

She develops a myopic view that what he gives is absolutely vital.

Because of this fantasy, she gives up everyday needs [most of the time without realizing].

She feels more and more drained but continues to try harder, believing that he’ll be the one to make her fulfilled again.

He senses her willingness to exert herself, and relaxes what he gives even more.

She senses this and works even harder to jump through hoops.

The cycle gets worse, as she becomes more and more depleted.

This is why she is exhausted and constantly proclaims she is tired of this. If you are going to resent something after you give it, don’t give it. If you truly value yourself, give only what feels comfortable to give. This will enable you to stay firmly planted with both feet on the ground.”

Think and remember that it is not about a boy who says he’s your man. You are awesome; so show your son how to be the right man… not the wrong one.

This is YOUR LiFE… and it’s too short and precious to waste.

You survived before you met him… sure as hell, you will live even better after him.

Sadly, some people mistakenly believe that their loneliness is a product of another person’s abscence.

Early this morning, a girl friend I have not heard from since she got married two years ago woke me from my designated sleep-in Munday. Although my mobile’s screen’s still selectively showing numbers or recognizing contacts whenever it feels like it, I decided to answer the call. Because I could barely piece together the words I did understand in the midst of bawling , I decided to meet her up for brunch. Never did I expect her husband to be the one that would cheat on his pregnant wife and divorce her through text messaging. His reason was because he realized afterwards that she is not what he needed in his life.

“Wow,” was all I could mutter at first. Then, you know me… I preached strength and forgiveness. Honestly, what’s done is done. Etc, etc, etc… As I spent almost an hour listening to her story [wallowing in woe, lamenting her loss], she asked why I was not offering words to console her or “saying shit” about him at all. For those of you who know me, I am sure you can picture my face at how annoyed I was with her moment of stupidity. We all make mistakes; ergo, shut up and move on.

Am I supposed to say forget him? You’re better than him? What for? You should know that, already.Why waste my time and energy, too? You’ve probably dehydrated yourself from crying and not eating. He left you three months ago. He stopped thinking of you when he had that affair. Obviously, he does not want you; so, why give him any more of you?

That made her stop crying instantly. At first she was mad, but if she was looking for sugarcoated sweetness, she called the wrong person. Ivory towers belong in fairy tales that we believed in childhood; we’re in adulthood now. I’m sorry, but I think we need real people around us who’ll tell the truth in your face. How many times are we all going to get hurt? Oh, plenty and maybe too many times to count.

“The world breaks EVERYone,” Hemingway once wrote, “and afterward, many are strong at the broken places.”A broken heart is simply a heart that has a chance to heal and become stronger. Right now, it is bleeding, just bleeding… All wounds must go through pain and inflammation before it can heal. I told her to put a band-aid on it and quit over-emphasizing on that bastard.

Eventually, we all experience that being in love is unexpectedly intoxicating, that special someone so compelling, that lovers often drop some of the obligations and rules that dominated their lives before they met.

Hence, why I shall stay single forever… that’s another post.

I’ll only do one thing: keep you in my prayers, my friend. Live and stay strong =D

I talked to someone earlier today for 2.5 hours 0.o
regarding how hard it was to find the other half of your heart.
HUH?!?!?!? WTF!
Why would you believe that stupid Tom Cruise line, “you complete me.”
She got hurt, then mad
when I told her that it is a problem to think you need to have another person to complete yourself.
That’s a Hallmark Cards ploy…

As if i didn’t have enough to deal with in school…
Not really interested in finding my soul mate right now, anyway.
I also don’t understand why getting married before 30 is such a big deal in Asian culture.
At my sister’s wedding, the host pointed out that
“I’m single and very available…”
Broadcasted in English then Chinese!
That was most embarrassing (´＿｀*) “
Honestly, I thot that I’m actually a better person for not having kids or a husband.
bwahahahaha, I’m just glad my mother doesn’t stress me as much as hers.

is going to propose to me one day ;P
drooooLing @ his hotness teeheehee

Ergo, unless that happens… access denied!

She said that men are too difficult to deal with.

I don’t think that it was supposed to be easy.
Not enough flavors would prove to be too boring.
Remember, I always said:to go ahead and collect
and collect enough
until you can select >____<

Of course, I don’t mean you ought to go on a dating frenzy or sleep around.
I just want you’all to experience, learn, try, and taste something new.
There is no guarantee, for nothing is perfect… gablah blah blah…
Your soulmate is not supposed to make you super happy, he/she is supposed to challenge you so you can grow to the best you can be.
That’ll mean “discussions”, compromise, head pains, heartaches, and sacrifice.

Here’s what I strongly believe:

Dating = “Meet” Market

Although it might be shocking to know I’m conservative when it comes to relationships,you must go shopping for the right person.
In order to meet “the one” for you, you have to talk to a lot of people, make a lot of offers, counter offers, negotiate, reject, and accept.
I seriously wanted to start handing out application forms because I was getting tired getting all these losers and a**holes.
Why shouldn’t I have prerequisites for a serious merger?
In the end, I think I’ve made a pretty smart choice by taking a bold step forward.

And, please, DO NOT sell yourself short.
First dates or convos are supposed to be like first interviews.
So what if I choose not to have a second one?
You deserve to be picky; we’re not penguins.
Imagine GOD loves you very, very much…
Think about the level of unconditional love He has for you and that no one else can come close.
If you keep that in mind, maybe you’ll use your head more than your heart.[I should listen to my advice, eh?]

Why do single people sit at home and wait for the phone to ring?
Friend, I doubt “your prince charming” is dropping from heaven.
You ain’t Brad Pitt or Angelina Jolie, right?
You’d best go to the market,
even it it’s only the supermarket or Wally’s World lang.

When you’ve reached your goal?
Or when you’ve given up?
Maybe when you look behind?
Or when your past reminds you of your regrets?
When age meets reality?
Or when you forget the promises you made to yourself?

I’ve returned to my restless winter state, like a hibernating bear that stays fully awake rather than sleeping soundly There are endless tasks I keep bumping into as I walk through my self-made messier than usual sty. As I look at my unwrapped Christmas gifts, I burrito roll myself further in my down comforter and wished hard for another week without school. There are stranger scenarios that pop in my head as I close my eyes… I can see my destination, but I want to take another detour that I am aware I cannot afford.
Even if I have pictures which help me recall the past ten years, I feel as if new memories must happen. When I was younger, I pushed very hard to live life, knowing nothing can last forever. Ergo, my you-only-live-once crisis started quite early. Looking at my list of 50 must-complete-before-I-die goals I wrote when I was ten, half remains unchecked. I am tempted to uproot and become spontaneous, like I used to.